Flavor of the Month
by cheshireSorrows
Summary: All Human. Take an ill-fated one night stand between a romantic cynic and a stuffy divorce lawyer; add their opposing views on life and a dash of their attraction before stirring thoroughly with ice-cream and social ineptitude, and then hope it doesn't completely screw up their lives.
1. Chapter one: Vanilla

**STANDARD DISCLAIMER APPLIES. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. NO INFRINGEMENT INTENDED.**

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Flavor of the month

Chapter one: Vanilla

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Bella Swann wasn't by any definition, a promiscuous woman. However, that didn't make her a particular angel either. So when she agreed to go out with Jake for a night of alcohol and dancing, she knew it would end in one of three ways:

Option A: She'd get home at six in the morning, drunk out of her mind while Jake clumsily tried to feel her up and would narrowly end up throwing up on her instead.

Option B: She'd make it home at a reasonable hour, drink a gallon of water to pee all the booze out of her system and then pass out in front of her television watching Friends reruns until Jake, who stayed out unreasonably, would knock on her door and demand to be let in because he has to pee and forgot where he lives.

Or Option C: She'd meet some handsome stranger, have lots of drunken sex and then wallow in the shame and self-loathing that would consume her and would then led to the creation and naming of a perfect ice-cream to gorge herself on the next time it happened. She was thinking: "The Morning After – because ice-cream doesn't judge."

In her experience with night outs, Bella had experienced Option A and B often enough that she had a whole routine worked up in her head of how to deal with the morning afters.

She and Jake would need aspirins, a big greasy breakfast and then, depending on Option A or B, she'd get a new pair of shoes courtesy of Jacob Black's credit card. She knew what to expect when it came to the first two situations and she learnt a long time ago that such was life; her childhood friend would never stop dragging her to clubs or pubs or whatever and neither of them would ever have just one drink. But it was ordered; predictable.

If things were to change in the first two scenarios, there were backup plans; recon.

Neither of which existed in Option C.

Sure she had a few wild nights back in college and when she used to travel cross country for the hell of it, but those days were done. She was a recognized and respected business woman, twenty-six with her own place, her own business; she wasn't some raunchy teenager with no care for tomorrow; she had responsibilities, a mortgage! Besides, after one too many, she had been convinced she contracted something (which she didn't), and promptly settled down so she could pretend to be a grown up.

That was at least four years ago.

And as soon as she felt consciousness tickling her brain, she knew it was coming –

Despite her knowing it was a bad idea, her eyes fluttered open.

She was staring at the ground. Wooden, shiny and…yep….that was her panties lying beside a sock that wasn't hers. Oi vey.

Lying on her stomach, she could feel the weight of her actions pelting her, dragging her to the floor.

No. No. Wait. That was gravity.

Hastily, she pulled herself back up, brushing her disarrayed hair aside and making a face at the chalky taste in her mouth, a cross between ash, dust and death. So that's what humiliation tastes like.

A groan rumbled beside her and the bed sheets hiding her lady bits disappeared as her bed buddy rolled over. The cold air hit her, and she could feel her insides shrivel up as her skin broke out in goosebumps, and somehow flushed red in embarrassment at the same time.

If it didn't get any worse, there was a sudden pressure in her head and she shut her eyes again, pressing her fingertips against them.

Dear Lord, have mercy on me.

The snores at her side suddenly sharpened in breath, before a snort later, a man sat up beside her abruptly as if he'd woken up from a dream about drowning and thought he needed to get up for air. His hands held his head so Bella couldn't make out his facial features, but his hair was in as much disarray as hers while he groaned louder as the head rush increased the headache coming from an impending hangover.

"Er?"

Visibly, his shoulders tensed.

"Uh, don't mind me, I just-uh," normally she was more articulate than this, "yeah, where's your bathroom?" Really Bella, she berated, you have an Honors in English.

He didn't look up from his position with his head in his one hand, he pointed at a door to his right.

"Great, thanks." Snatching her panties off the floor, along with her bra (hanging off the bedside lamp on his side of the bed) and her jeans (at the foot of the bed, trying to sneak beneath it into the bowls of the earth which she, coincidently, wanted to crawl into); her shirt was nowhere to be seen and out of her dwindling self preservation, she forwent it and escaped to the bathroom anyway.

Fumbling to get dressed, she splashed cold water on her face and downed the mouth wash on the sink, gargling and spitting multiple times until she was satisfied that the nasty aftertaste lingering in the back of her throat was just disgust rather than the morning breath of a White Walker.

"Hey, are you done in there?"

"Yeah, yeah, just whoa!" The door opened anyway and there he stood one hand in his hair as he leaned against the doorframe, shirtless but wearing a pair of maroon colored boxers and the partner of the sock that was once keeping her panties company on the floor.

"You could've locked it," he said irrelevantly as he stepped in, standing beside her as he reached for the mouth wash as well.

"You could've knocked."

After a gargle and spit, he stated blandly, "I live here."

She cocked a brow, leaning against the sink on one hand. "Yeah, and I'm a guest, isn't it common courtesy and all that jazz?"

Another gargle and spit. "Sorry."

Her headache slowly intensifying, she made a humph sound. "Have you seen my shirt by the way?"

He glanced at her briefly, or more particularly her chest which was only clad in a white bra. Annoyed, and feeling a little more defiant, she didn't bother to cover up and only notched her chin higher. "Well?"

"I'm trying to remember," he said, looking back to the sink as he sprinkled some water on his face. A moment later, he answered, "In the hallway, or by the front door maybe."

"Thanks."

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He wasn't the kind of guy who slept around for the simple reason that he just didn't have the time. His workaholic tendencies kept him at the office and doing work constantly, even on days off and during holidays though it had little to do with the love of his profession.

Edward Anthony Mason; divorce attorney: dealing with the messy aftermath of love gone wrong.

If the behavior of his clientele was anything to go by, he was convinced being a workaholic was for the best. There was nothing worse than a never ending divorce, plus, work gave him the perfect excuse to avoid any blind dates Rosalie could set up for him.

It had started in high school when he was gawky and as awkward physically as he was in everything else. As his childhood friend, Rosalie was convinced it was her duty to help him land a date – for experience sake.

His first date, first kiss, first actual girlfriend and then first lay was all in part orchestrated by her for the sole reason that she was, "Aphrodite incarnate." Why she had chosen in the most part to be single was pure choice because, "Mama only eats once all her children have been fed." Endless eyerolls follow.

Over the years, Rosalie had loosened up on trying to match-make him instead choosing women based on what his future children should like, as if she were shopping at genetic farm or creating-a-sim for her amusement. The logic behind this was that Edward couldn't possibly procreate unless he was a sperm donor so he'd have to sleep with random women in the hopes of two blue lines on a stick would tie him infinitely to another individual.

Not that he went along with it.

He'd evaded and escaped her attempts for months following his twenty-eighth birthday. If it wasn't for the rough case he got handed that afternoon, and Rosalie tempting him with free alcohol, this wouldn't have happened.

But Edward had to hand it to her; the girl she chose was pretty even without the beer goggles.

Still, it had been awhile since his last sexual encounter and he wasn't sure how to proceed. This was a one-night stand, he decided that somewhere between taking her shirt off and kissing her, and he was sure she knew that.

No name. No numbers. No real life. All boxes ticked. This was definitely a one-night stand.

So…why was she still in his apartment?

"You're still…here," he muttered to himself, blandly.

She didn't seem to notice him as she continued to look around the living room.

"Have you seen my phone?"

He relaxed, wandering into the kitchen; he turned on the coffee machine. "What's the model?"

For awhile she didn't say anything and a constant buzzing sound was coming from the floor. Oh. "It's uh – oh that one!" She came around to the kitchen to take it from him, but not before he saw the name flashing on the screen.

"I really hope you're not cheating on Jake."The last thing he needed was to be a part of any kind of relationship drama; that was precisely why he avoided intimate interactions with people. That, and according to Rosalie, he was socially inept.

The look of horror on her face was immediate though. "Ew no. He's like my gay younger brother. Except he's neither."

"Okay?"

Surprisingly she didn't answer the phone immediately. "Where are we anyway?"

"New Moon Condos."

She made an amused sound. "Fancy."

Not knowing what to say, he shrugged before offering, "I can just drop you off you know."

"Yeah, but that would be slightly weird considering…"

"Yeah…"

"Uh huh…"

Awkward pause. Good, so he wasn't the only one feeling weird about this.

In her hand, her phone still vibrated.

"Aren't you going to answer that?"

"What? This?" She looked down at it for a moment, contemplating. "I'm deciding whether or not having my ear blown off is better than standing in the condo of a guy I slept with but can't remember how or why."

"You don't remember? Now you're just hurting my feelings. Is this payback for not knocking on the door?"

"To be fair it was incredibly rude."

"I've already seen you naked," he argued and despite her blush, she retaliated, "Not that I remember."

His brow cocked. "Is that an invitation?"

If it was possible, her blush increased further – blossoming from her cheeks to the tips of her ears to dust the top of her chest.

Turning away from him hurriedly, she finally answered her phone and that's how the first box of one-night-stands was un-checked, when her not gay little brother declared from the receiver, "Bella Swann, I'm going to kill you."

**A/n: **So literally, today, my laptop committed suicide, taking all my WIP with it to digital heaven. I was feeling poopy so decided to write, and this was the end result. My first attempt to write a full story for Twilight starts now.

Rating is M for lemons; suggestive themes and language later on, how much later is yet to be determined because I'm basically winging this though I do have an idea of what the rest of the story will be like, your suggestions though are always appreciated.

Thanks for reading, if you like please leave me a line below :)


	2. Chapter 2: Rocky Road

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Flavor of the Month

Chapter two: Rocky Road

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Bella was torn between leaving the condo where her freakishly good looking one-night stand was currently walking around in his boxers – seemingly unaware that his abs could grate cheese; and leaving the condo where her freakishly brutish one-night stand was currently giving her a look that was equal parts confusion and equal parts, "please leave".

Unfortunately, the area in which she had found herself in happened to be the vaguest, foggiest place she knew so it stood to reason that she was left at the mercy of Mysterious Mr. Tuesday.

God forbid she got hammered on a Friday night, or even the weekend – no, no, no; that's when the teenagers loitered and she'd be damned if she ended up in bed with one of them. If only because her bed buddy had a five o'clock shadow and no apparent roommate/mother living with him, that was one of the few good things about last night's escapade.

Getting home was not one of them.

Though maybe with a car she could –

"No."

Her eyes flew up to meet his before falling back to the car keys on the counter. They were right there, sitting innocently beside yesterday's newspaper, the Mercedes badge glinting in the light…

The fact that the woman from last night, dressed in only jeans and a bra was staring at his keys like they were a steak and she was starving led to his full refusal. No one was driving his car but him. The longer he glared at her though, the harder she stared as if trying to use the Force. "Are you serious?" He didn't wait for an answer before repeating, "No."

"I didn't even say anything."

His eyes narrowed into golden slits. "You want to take my car."

"Well how else am I supposed to get home?"

"I don't know, a cab? How else am I going to get my car back?"

A muscle above her eye twitched, refusing to concede or even care about _his _needs. Bella was pretty sure she took care of _his _needs last night; the least he could do was get her home. Though why she could feel goosebumps running up her arms when he came around the kitchen, mostly nude other than the boxers and the single sock…He definitely bench presses…maybe cross fit?

"Can't you call someone to pick you up?" His voice jarred her focus on the debate in her head, but apparently auto-pilot mode worked pretty well as she asked instead, "Where's your house phone?"

"I don't have one."

"What? Why not? Are you telling me there's no wiFi here either?"

"Of course there is. My neighbor doesn't have a password on his."

"Fine, fair enough. Well, can I borrow your phone then? Jake's greeting killed mine," muttering aloud, she added, "idiot makes phones commit suicide just hearing his voice."

Without much thought on his part, Edward snorted.

Not surprised they shared some innate meanness, she was about to repeat her question when reality struck her in the face. Repeatedly.

"Is there a reason your face-palming or is that how you usually ask for things?"

"No, I just remembered that Jasper has some meeting on the other side of town and Alice is opening up the store today. I doubt Jake will pick me up after that phone call."

When she looked back up at him, he was giving her a wary look.

In his mind, Edward was _wall_-palming. Come on, first I know her name and now stuff about her real life? Is a simple one-night stand, all boxes ticked, really so difficult?

"Look, I swear after work today I'll bring back your car and -"

"And who's going to take you home if you bring my car back?"

Ignoring the complete lack of trust he had in her (because such trust would be present after a one-night stand, eye roll), Bella answered, "Alice maybe? Or Jake, if I bribe him enough he'll do it even if he hates me."

"And let you show a crazy murderer where I live?"

"He's not a real murderer," she defended, "he can't even get a straw in a juice box. It's that are you my cover cab fair, my wallet isn't here." Jake's 'surprise' for her the night before was using sex appeal to pay for drinks, and by extension getting him free drinks. The bastard.

Edward was shaking his head and walking away, grabbing his mug of hot coffee on the counter and draining it in one gulp as if it was a shot that he desperately needed. And if she wasn't so desperate to go home (because for goodness' sake, Alice alone in the store couldn't be good), she would've enjoyed the view of his back and the little indents just above his boxers. Unfortunately all she was getting was mental flashes of her shop in complete ruin and Alice threatening to temper chocolate on a customer's face.

Vaguely, she noted that Back-Dimples was talking, but all she could hear were the angelic voices of the Fates singing as they shined a spot light on the keys to save her store from Alice…

At the same time she reached for the shiny keys to his car, Mysterious Mr. Tuesday turned back around from his tirade, and their eyes locked.

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Twenty minutes later, they were both in his car. He, sporting a slightly bruised cheek, and she, pouting in the passenger seat.

"I can't believe you punched me."

"I didn't. You fell."

"I was on you," he reminded flatly.

"Yeah, and I pushed you off." Adding under her breath, "I wasn't actually going to steal your car. Just convince you to drop me off."

"I even gave you coffee and told you I'd take you home," he said, completely ignoring what she just said and sounding distraught at his own actions.

"You did not offer to take me home." I would've remembered that!

"I did. You were too busy making rape faces at my keys to notice."

She grumbled, ignoring the flush of heat at her neck, ears and cheeks. "But you didn't offer me coffee." It was a poor retaliation, but the level of confidence she could fake almost had him pause to consider it. Another glance her way, however, provided him with the evidence he needed: a coffee stain on her shirt.

"Stealing yours doesn't count," she piqued, covering the culprit with her hand in the guise of brushing her hair aside, "besides, it tasted gross."

"Black is the only way to drink it. It's from Kenya for Pete's sake; you can't drown something like that with milk and sugar."

"Kenya? Liar, you got it from Natural Foods, stop trying to be fancy."

"What, you don't think I can afford it?" He poised, arching a brow at her.

It was established somewhere during her great getaway with his keys around his condo that Mysterious Mr. Tuesday was well off financially. Sure his personal space seemed highly _impersonal _but it was practical and was maintained with military neatness. Plus, Alice had dragged her to enough department stores to know what money smelled like.

If that wasn't enough, he drove the latest Mercedes, wore a John Smith tie, genuine Italian leather shoes and a simple, but expensive black suit – not three piece, but dressed as fancy as she'd ever seen a guy at eleven in the morning.

Conscious of her suspicious stare, he glanced at her again. "What?"

"What exactly do you do for a living?"

"Lawyer."

Her nose scrunched. "Sounds boring."

He made a huff sound as he exhaled through his nose. "It paid for the coffee, this car, and that shirt you're wearing."

Bella looked down at the stripped article of clothing he insisted she wear instead of going out in just a bra (not that she was going to). "To be fair, I couldn't find mine."

"I'll probably find it after work."

"When you do, can you mail it to me? That's my favorite shirt." It was a red blouse made of silk; it was on sale, complimented her skin tone and happened to make her breasts look fantastic.

There was a brief pause as he drove through an intersection before he said, "It looked better on my floor."

She stared at him, unblinking. "That was an uncalled for cheesy pick-up line. Am I being punished again?"His lips parted, but she interjected, "And if you try some BDSM come-on I'll jump out the car."

"We're on a busy road."

"You don't think I will?"

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He had a vein that was protruding out of his forehead; she had taken to calling it Albert. In the silence that filled his car, Bella was sure she could it hear Albert throbbing in harmony with his heartbeat as he tried to control the flaring of his nostrils.

"I warned you that I'd do it."

"Did you really have to?"

She shrugged causing the shoulder of his shirt on her smaller frame to slip onto her upper arm. "It wasn't like we were moving or anything. I very calmly got out and walked. I'm perfectly capable of it."

He side-glanced her then as they stopped at a red light. "You said that two minutes ago," he reminded, "you got out the car and then fell in a ditch."

"Once."

"It can happen more than once?"

"I'm gravity challenged."

He sighed, rubbing his temple with one hand. "Look, this morning's been…unexpected- sleeping with you last night and then having a morning after like we did, and frankly, I'm exhausted."

"Hey," she began lightly, "you're the one who wanted to prove you could go at it for two more hours."

His mouth opened and closed, baffled at how quickly she jumped from one thing to another, and briefly remembering that exact moment last night after he'd had her for the second, maybe third time? And had taken a moment to catch his breath – marveling at her; flushed and half naked as she stood sandwiched between the wall and him. Despite being winded, she'd teased him that if a quickie against the wall was all he could handle, then she'd show herself out –

"Oh, that's the street, you can park right across," she interrupted.

Obliging her, he parallel parked though he hadn't killed the engine.

"Thanks for the ride."

"Sure."

"So uh…"

"If I find your shirt, I'll…I'll mail it to you."

She blinked, before shaking her head with a smile. "You're…weird."

He didn't take offense to the accusation. "See you around."

"Yeah…" Unbuckling her seatbelt and opening the door, she looked down at the shirt she was wearing. "Oh and this -"

"Keep it," he interrupted, "it looks better on you anyway."

"You realize we're doing this wrong? You're supposed to give me a present, take me out on a date and _then_ fuck my brains out," she informed him through the open window of the passenger side door.

Edward rolled his eyes good naturedly before offering a lopsided grin. "You're too unique for something like that, even if your name is both fitting and ironic."

"Are you trying to pay me a compliment and insult me at the same time?"

He shrugged.

With slightly narrowed eyes and a smile she couldn't fight off, Bella shook her head. "Roll your window up and drive far, far, far away, before I fall helplessly in love with you, steal the rest of your shirts and drink your overpriced, horrible tasting coffee."


	3. Chapter 3: Mint

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Flavor of the Month

Chapter three: Mint

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The "Sweet Treats" sign marked the large display window, simple white lettering against glass, big enough to get people's attention and small enough to not obscure the glimpse a person had inside of the moderately sized café/bakery.

To Alice's credit, the customers weren't rioting inside, but they were packed like sardines – and Bella doubted it had anything to do with the "You Deserve Better" special.

Unless everyone was simultaneously dumped last night.

The aroma of bread and roasted berries, "The Homesickness", being burned to the point that it was charred black was going to send her into a panic attack if she kept inhaling it from as far as the side-walk; the mental image had her gritting her teeth like she was getting her wisdoms plucked out with pliers.

Inhaling a final breath for fortitude, she pushed the door open; the bell above it jingled and kept on jingling as something pushed the door back.

Peeking around, she scowled. "Jake, what the hell are you doing?"

"You can't come in, can you?"

"Not with your big butt in the way," she stated, rolling her eyes and pushing the door harder.

He didn't let up, pushing back the door with his palm. "No. I was serious."

"About?"

"Killing you," he answered simply.

"Pushing me out of my business isn't going to kill me." Still, she pushed harder, the panic rising as she envisioned the "It's So Fluffy I'm Gonna Die" meringues shriveling up into lumps of coal. "Jake!"

"Nope, keep pushing midget."

"I know where you sleep!"

Jake only snickered. "That's cute. And what are you going to do about it?"

Scowling, she rested on her hip, leaning slightly to glimpse Alice in front of the cash register.

Even from outside, Bella could tell she was frazzled.

Alice wasn't the best under pressure. It was one of the many reasons why she dropped out of med school to become an artist.

Her black brows were furrowed in concentration, trying to deal with five customers bombarding her with demands. At the sight, Bella felt bad for letting the much shorter woman work for her in exchange for rent, but Alice was stubborn and determined to make it in the world. Met meetings and Gossip Girl-esque lifestyle be damned. But at the moment, she looked ready to agree to stuffy society dinners any day for the next ten years with no complaints.

From the window, Bella waved widely using both arms and jumping up and down to get her attention.

In her belly, the remaining alcohol from last night jumped about uncomfortably before Alice looked up, smiled in relief and then proceeded to jump over the counter and knock off the growing mob in front of her. Blowing passed Jake in the process.

Thank god for Alice Brandon.

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Edward was convinced for a moment that the world had been kind.

His one-night stand didn't end in too much of a disaster, minus his slightly bruised cheek. And hey, he did get laid last night so that was always a plus.

It was scientifically proven after all that sex makes a person's day better and so for a brief, minuscule second, he thought he'd have a good day at work with no cases of divorce sitting at his desk. He even had a completely strange belief that this was the day to believe in a good married life with the two point five kids and the white picket fence. He hoped he'd spend the day behind his desk, playing World of Warcraft or watching stupid YouTube videos, and just have what he constituted as a good day.

But reality hit in the form of burly man, large and imposing in size, but hunched over to half his size. With his usually jovial features drawn solemnly towards the ground he stared at, Edward could feel the weight of reality settling in at an uncomfortable pace. Clearing his throat, he readjusted his tie. "Emmett."

So lost in thought, the other man started and gave a pathetic excuse at a smile. "Ed, sorry to burst in on you like this." Agitated, he rubbed his hands against his denim jeans.

That wasn't a good sign.

Pausing to nod at the secretary, Edward gestured for him to follow, leading the way to his office and shutting the door behind him.

No one ever came for a social visit.

"Tanya?"

"Yeah." Rubbing an open palm against his forehead and then over his eyes, Emmett sighed. "I couldn't talk her out of it. She wants a divorce."

Automatically, the most reasonable course of action was announced, "You can settle this out of court."

"I want to talk to my best friend, not my lawyer," he informed, taking a seat on the leather sofa against the wall, removing his baseball cap and resting it on his knee as he continued to rub his face and then his hair before sighing. "I gave her time, I gave her space, I gave her everything she wanted and it wasn't enough. What am I suppose to do now?"

Not knowing what to do with himself, Edward walked to his desk, leaving his briefcase on the table before leaning against it, arms crossed, waiting.

His nearly ten years experience had taught him that more often than not, people will do all the talking without any of the asking. It was almost a given, people loved to talk about themselves after all.

"She had an issue with me working so often."

"You work hard," he said, "she can't fault you in that. Seven out of ten women find the quality important."

Emmett gave him a wary smile. "Yeah well, I'd have a problem if it was reversed." He paused to pick at a piece of fluff on his shirt. "I haven't slept in our bed for almost a year now, I'd have an issue too if she was the one working and I was the one sleeping in an empty bed."

"But that's not the way it is."

"It shouldn't have had to be either way."

There was a silence.

Divorce at a glance could be caused by a multitude of things, but in reality, there were two culprits: Disinterest and Money.

"What does she want from you?"

The insensitivity from the question went right over Emmett's head as he continued to run his hands up and down his jean clad thighs. "I don't know. Her shopping sprees aren't going to pay for themselves, and those Sunday lunches and her special days," he trailed. "She even promised to pay for a friend's liposuction, money doesn't fall out of the sky, how the hell am I supposed to be around and make money at the same time. I don't have a trust fund or daddy's wallet to pick."

"How much does she want from the divorce?"

"That's not why we're fighting Ed."

"Then what?"

Emmett's one shoulder shrug was enough. The man was tired, and the effort to fake nonchalance wasn't one he was willing to play for anyone's sake.

Uncomfortable with the growing silence, Edward offered, "Did she find someone else?"

"No, no! She'd never!" The denials died down as quickly as they came. "Maybe. She threatened once that she could get anyone she wanted," muttering, he added, "she said she settled on me."

"So it might be someone else?" His mind went to hiring a private investigator, get evidence of her infidelity and use that to bargain for a settlement deal. If the evidence was damning enough, the divorce would be as quick and painless as he could make it.

"I wouldn't blame her. Like I said, I haven't been sleeping in my own bed. For all she knows, I could've been cheating on her."

"Did you?"

Exasperated, he began, "Ed."

"You were talking hypothetically."

He sighed. "Yes."

"I have to make sure," he said, shrugging. "I have to know what kind of case to build up for this."

Vaguely, the other man nodded before rubbing his mouth. His chin had acquired stubble, and the appearance of the Baseball Cap was indication enough of how serious this whole affair was. Yet one more reason to hate the job.

"What about Colette?"

Almost immediately, he folded into himself with his head in his hands. "Oh god."

He'd forgotten about her. Tanya would've too. Their little girl had been nothing short of an accessory since birth. Edward was familiar with the lifestyle.

"What do you want from this divorce?"

"Not to get divorced."

For the first time, he cracked a slight smile. "We're half way across that bridge already. You have to make your stipulations soon -"

"To build my case, I know." Emmett sighed. "I thought I was having a conversation with my best friend."

"You are, your best friend that doesn't want you to lose everything because of a few pieces of paper."

For a while neither of them said anything. Emmett still looked shell shocked at the reminder of his daughter's future hanging in the balance while Edward was evaluating the different courses of action to take to suit either one of the other man's decisions. He, of all people, knew how important choice was; the least he could do was ensure that either way, it wouldn't end too badly for anyone.

It was in the midst of this that a knock on the door interrupted them and a head of blonde hair peeked in.

"Hey Ed, you busy – oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were – Emmet?"

Without waiting for permission to enter, she shut the door behind her. "What are you…no…no, really?"

He sighed. "Rose, not now, please -"

"Are you – did she?"

"The second one; and yes." The circuit restarted and he was rubbing his palms against his thighs, up on arm and over his face and head, his agitation growing with the speed.

The young woman looked between them before dragging Emmett to his feet. "Come on, we're going to talk about this."

"I'm already talking about this with Ed -"

"Well I can -"

"Rose -"

"Just listen -"

Still at his desk, Edward watched them. Initially, he was annoyed at the interruption, but found himself studying the two people before him. They were the select few he had shared glimpses of his life into, and whom he spent a large portion of his time studying whenever they would meet to "hang out" and yet he still found himself confounded at them.

"You know what," Rosalie began, raising both hands in way that read 'shut up now because I said so', "before you decide to mope and brood while you fix up that rust bucket of a car in your parents' garage, we're going out."

"No," Edward found himself saying, "Not again."

"Uh-uh, no refusals or excuses. Guy or not, ice-cream is the only effective way to deal with this. And if necessary, we'll watch horrible chick flicks and cry."

"No to the last one," both men deadpanned.


	4. Chapter 4: Strawberry

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Flavor of the Month

Chapter four: Strawberry

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It had been two weeks since Tanya filed for divorce and as expected, she and Emmett had completely forgotten about the effect it would have on their three year old.

Tanya's time was spent weeping to her friends and family about how the marriage had self-destructed. Edward had only seen her once since, and for less than twenty minutes as she dabbed her dry eyes and wore black like she was in mourning.

From experience, he was sure it wasn't a complete farce.

Emmett and Tanya had been together for three years before they got married and had Colette, and if not for the divorce they'd be celebrating five years of marriage. By all appearances, they were a happy couple. But appearance alone wasn't enough to sustain a relationship.

Still, it wasn't his place to judge the circumstances, only evaluate the situation and deal with it prudently for the sake of his client.

Besides, if he were to judge Tanya's blatant dismissal of Colette, he would have to judge Emmett too.

The man was "shutting down" as Rosalie said after another "sympathy" visit to Emmett. Apparently he hadn't left his parents garage since Tanya officially signed the papers citing irreconcilable differences, it was his therapy and way of dealing with it, and Edward could respect that; just not the part where he refused to see his daughter.

"What exactly do you want me to do if you don't want to see her?"

"Don't Ed," he pleaded, "I can't…I can't look at her…she looks too much like Tanya and I -"

"That much is true. But she's still young, you can still mistake her as being any other blonde woman's daughter."

Incredulously, Emmett asked, "Like who?"

"Rosalie," he answered. "They have the same bone structure, coloring and general bratiness."

"Ed," the other man began in warning.

"She's still young, you can correct it."

"Edward."

"This line of conversation is irrelevant; must I repeat what I called you for?"

From the receiver, Emmett sighed and Edward could already picture him running a hand through his hair, though he still did not respond.

"Emmett, you need to pick up your daughter. If you show any signs of negligence at such an early stage you'll stand the chance of losing any form of custody you may have of her. Do you really want to be relegated to the odd weekend and holiday, if you're lucky?"

"No!"

"Then pick up Colette. Now."

"I can't!"

"Emmett make up your mind. I have other cases to go through today; I can't spend it trying to convince you to be there for your daughter. If you don't want her in your life say so."

There was an almost never ending silence and in it Edward sighed. And that's how the phone call ended.

Regardless, he had found himself in charge of the small girl not an hour later.

Colette McCarthy was sitting in the car seat offered to him by the girl's nanny. To his surprise, Tanya had been there too, waiting expectantly for Emmett.

"Where is he?"

Hiding beneath the hood of a car, pouting. "He got held up; he asked if I could pick up Colette if that's alright."

"You are her godfather," she said, flippant as she continued to look distracted before wandering away, absent mindedly kissing her daughter good-bye.

Colette, thankfully, was not particularly fussy this morning and had let him carry her to the car, strap her in and then drive off.

From the rearview mirror, he checked in on her. Studying the little blonde girl as she played with the arms of a doll she had brought with, he vaguely wondered what he was doing.

It wasn't like she was in any physical harm with Tanya, and it wasn't his place to kidnap her in the name of her idiot father who, by now, probably forgot all about her again. He supposed experience had taught him empathy, but besides that, in the event of her parents being incapable to care for her, he was Colette's godfather and as much as the responsibilities regarding this were unclear, he took his duties seriously.

At a red light, Colette glanced out of the passenger side window and began to wiggle her legs and thrash about.

"Hey, hey," he turned in his seat to pat her knee. "What's the matter?"

Growing frustrated with her constraints, she was red faced and on the verge of tears. "No, don't do that -"And then said tears leaked out as she combusted, her face bright and her movements violent and persistent.

Ahead of him, the light turned green and the cars behind him began to hoot.

Cursing, he pulled over to the curb, parked and turned around again to address her, "Colette, what's wrong?"

She shook her head, wordless as she continued to squirm and pull at the straps on either side of her arms.

Edward wasn't all that great with kids, being an only child gave him little exposure to others of his age and younger, but he wasn't going to lose his head over this. He'd never been around many kids, but Colette he knew.

Getting out of the car to free her from the car seat, she was not as obliging going out as she was going in. He eased her somewhat clumsily in his arms (her thrashing around wasn't helpful) and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet as they both stood on the pavement.

Still rocking side to side, he rubbed her back. "Are you okay?"

She stuck her thumb in her mouth, a habit she hadn't broken yet, and mumbled around the appendage, "Ice-cream."

"What?"

Kicking her legs again, she exclaimed, "Ice cream!"

Confused, he looked around him and realized that the side of the road he had been forced to park onto held some kind of bakery, the words, "Sweet Treats" written on the large display window with a chalk board stand outside proclaiming, "Special: It Gets Better ice-cream, buy one scoop get another free!"

When he looked back down to the little girl in his arms, he found her staring back at him with large innocent brown eyes.

.

"What's the big deal?" Jake was saying, "It isn't like we were that serious."

"You've been dating for almost a year. How is that not serious?" Alice retorted.

In the middle of decorating a "Be happy, it's candy" dessert tray, Bella added, "And you've met each other's parents. If that's not serious I don't know what is."

"So, I've met your parents, and you've met mine. And we're not getting married are we?"

"Not for your lack of trying," she answered, rolling her eyes with a snicker.

"Look I'm just saying, the least you can do is be a little remorseful about it, you led her on for a year!"

"_Almost_."

"_Close enough,_" both women insisted.

Jake sighed. "I wasn't leading her on alright, what she wanted I wasn't ready for. I'm twenty-three, I have my own bike sure, but -"

"You don't have your own place."

"Or pay all your bills without help."

"Or know how to do your taxes."

"Or whether or not you need medical aid."

"Or what medical aid is," Alice trailed.

"Or how to get it in…"

"Hey!"

The door separating the kitchen and the front of the bakery was widened as Sam set a foot in, snickering. "I saw an opening and I took it."

Twisting up a dishcloth, Jake threw it at him. "Beat it!"

"Didn't know you were into that kind of thing, but your BDSM fetishes aside, I'm not here for you, Bella, it's you I want."

"Right now?" She fanned herself dramatically. "This is so sudden! Here, now?"

Maintaining his solemn features he said, "No, outside."

"Outside," Alice repeated, "didn't know you were an exhibitionist. Are you sure you even should be, I mean, you've been piling on the cupcakes lately…"

His brow arched, Sam lifted his white button up to expose the board wash abs he'd been cultivating since puberty. "I think I'm good."

"Me too."

Fanning herself exaggeratedly, Alice dismissed herself, "Nevermind,"

Jake scoffed. "You women and your double standards – if a girl did that, and I appreciated the view I'd be 'degrading women', but when you do it you're just appreciating it."

"It's not what you say, it's how you say it," Alice tutted teasingly.

Shaking his head, Sam said, "But seriously Bella, there's some guy outside."

"Is he causing trouble?" And why call me? Was the follow-up question, not that she couldn't scare away some creeper on the sidewalk, but come on; she may share some Italian heritage but she hadn't gotten the Italian temper and she was by no means, an intimidating lady. For goodness' sake, she made desserts for a living.

"Not particularly. He's got a crying kid and some of the customers are getting a bit uncomfortable."

"Alright I'll go talk to him, see if I can help." Wiping her hands off with the dishcloth Sam threw back, she looked over her shoulder and proclaimed, "The kitchen better be the way I left it."

"Aye sir."

Not a minute after she had opened the door did she see the man and his kid in question before she promptly stepped back in.

"That was quick."

"Small world," she muttered in reply.

"What's wrong?"

"That guy with the kid is the one I slept with a few weeks back."

Alice's eyes widened. "No way." Dropping the rolling pin, she walked towards the door and peeked out. For a few seconds there was a calculated look in her eyes as she measured Bella's one-night stand in estimated height, weight, eye color, clothing choices and whatever other variable she felt she needed before ranking him accordingly, "Well he's good looking at least." That was a six, maybe a seven.

"Thank you, drunk me appreciates your compliment about her taste."

"What are you going to do?" Jake asked, peeking out as well.

"Talk to him of course. I'm a big girl and we're both adults. Besides, his crying kid is scaring people off my meal ticket. Now, back to work slaves, I have to go pretend to be a grown up."

.

Edward valued his education immensely, of all the honors and degrees he had received over the years, none was he more proud of then his Honors in English Literature. It went without saying then, that his vocabulary was extensive and his understanding of the language was proficient.

Unfortunately the fancy degree could come up with no better phrase than, "This sucks" when Colette wouldn't stop crying.

Thanks to her they were both getting unwanted attention as people gave them everything from suspicious side-glances, sympathetic winces to looks of annoyance.

But he was not going to cave. Nope. Nope. Nope.

He accused Emmett of letting Colette be bratty and he wasn't about to fall for her tricks.

They were going to get in his car and they'd…go to his office, he supposed? It wasn't like he had to be there all the time, more often than not he could work from home…They could go to his house. That was a plan wasn't it? And then…she could…sit quietly while he did work? No. That wouldn't do. There'd be nothing to placate her in his condo or in his office. Emmett? He could drop her off with Emmett, force him to play daddy like he should've. Picturing the garage with all its dangerous tools, sharp everything and Emmett, he dismissed the thought.

Damn it. Usually he thought these things through.

It wasn't until Colette was snapped up that he finally returned to the reality of the three year old no longer in his arms.

"Aw, don't cry sweetie," the unknown woman crooned, apparently the amount of people annoyed with him and Colette had reached a point where they had randomly selected an individual to intervene and possibly take the little girl to child services.

It wasn't until Colette was resting on the woman's hip did he realize he knew her.

"Bella?"

"Nice to see you too," she responded, bouncing the little girl a little in her arms. "You know, if you wanted to make it clear that our little night was nothing more than that, I would have been perfectly fine if you never called. Not that I gave you my number in the first place. But a kid? That's a bit extreme."

"She isn't mine."

Her brows rose in surprise. "So kidnapping then." Looking him up and down in a similar suit she saw him in last time. "I'm impressed. And in your work clothes too."

He resisted the urge to scowl. "Do you mind, I need to take my goddaughter home." Yes, home would do. There was a park close by where he jogged, he remembered seeing a playground there before, that would distract her for a few hours.

In her arms, Colette babbled. She was at the stage where she knew a few words, but not enough to have a full conversation without the baby talk. Bella, however, seemed to understand and cooed at her before turning her attention once more to him, "What did she do to deserve that?"

"Her father's an idiot."

"Makes sense." Bouncing her around a few more times, Bella smiled before handing Colette back. "Sorry I just swiped her out of your arms by the way, the customers are getting kind of annoyed with the noise the little princess was making."

"Little princess?"

She shrugged. "She looks like one, and I call them as I see them."

"Oh." He looked down at the little girl, and she was staring up at him again with the big, brown eyes. "Sorry for the trouble," he said instead, he was half way turned to leave before Colette raged high and loud.

Again, she was taken out of his arms.

"Geez, kid's got lungs!"

"Yes, I noticed."

"What's she going on about? I know babies generally cry for everything, but…"

Colette kicked her legs and repeated, "Ice-cream!"

"Is that all?" Bella teased, tapping her nose. "That I can do!"

"She's spoilt enough, really, it's fine -"

"Relax, it's on me."

Small as she was, Colette could eat twice of Tanya's bodyweight which was roughly how tall the ice-cream scope had to be to sate her. Emmett chalked it up to his little girl growing up and getting all the nutrients she needed while Rosalie had claimed it was to compensate for Tanya putting the little girl on some crazy diet to be a size negative two.

"You'll regret that."

"I bet you I won't," she challenged with a snicker. "I happen to be real close with the owner."


	5. Chapter 5: Chocolate

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Flavor of the Month

Chapter five: Chocolate

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Since Colette had gotten onto solid food, eating became one of her favorite things to do, and with little discipline from either of her parents, she always got to eat exactly what she wanted, when she wanted. At age three, when a friend of Tanya's had commented on her chubbiness, the regiment of no sweets, no treats came to be.

Emmett had always bowed to her whims for them, and so had her nannies, regardless of Tanya's strict orders, but this was a whole different universe.

Edward had never treated her to anything especially something involving sweets, it wasn't his place to sneak behind Tanya's back, and with the look on Colette's face he was beginning to regret ever letting Bella drag him in here.

"Sweet Treats" was a bakery styled café, there were dozens of displays of home-made, so fresh it was just this morning desserts, breads and pastries sitting in every corner, tucked away into glass cases for perusal, and apparently for self-serve as people emptied each case out bit by bit. There was even a counter extending from where the cashier was where people ate or drank, making small talk with whoever was behind the counter at the time, and occasionally with each other; it was like an old soda shop from way back when.

"Hoping to make it a societal norm to buy a woman ice-cream instead of alcohol?" Edward asked, practically dragging Colette along as she stared starry-eyed at all the cakes and ice-creams around them, half in a stupor while her doll was being dragged across the floor in a similar though exaggerated fashion.

"Why not?" was the gleeful reply, "Alcohol's got too many consequences; ice-cream just makes me fat and happy. Now take a seat, I'll get you guys sorted with something good."

"Good?" Colette repeated, still dazed.

"That's right! What's your flavor?"

The answer was automatic and enough to return her back to the reality of the delicious atmosphere that filled the store, "Chocolate!"

"Excellent choice, and for you?"

"You work here?" The bakery/café wasn't a bad looking place and it certainly seemed popular, but he always had an idea of what kind of person he was dealing with based on observation and a young woman busting tables for a living didn't fit the mold he had mentally laid out for her more than two weeks ago.

Whether it was confusion or disdain in his voice, but possibly a combination of both, Bella sighed dramatically before resting her weight on one hip and crossing her arms. "There's no need to sound like a snob, we all have to make a living somehow."

He figured when they first met, admittedly half drunk, that she was a socialite of some kind; flying high on daddy's money and mommy's good looks – she knew everyone in the club Rosalie had dragged him to (in her words, it was a "whose-whose watering hole") and she was certainly dressed like she was made of money (silk shirts are so terribly easy to get off). Edward had met his fair share of girls like her, and he hadn't the patience to deal with them so it had thrown him off kilter when he had (accidently) overheard her conversation with a man who was hoping to get lucky, his expectation of her was proven incorrect in minutes and again, it was happening. Edward didn't like being wrong.

"And yet you made a face when I told you I was a lawyer," he reminded flatly.

"Aw, you still remember that?"

"It was hurtful."

Before she could say anything in response, Colette blinked, leaned across the table and clapped his cheek with her palm. The sound wasn't particularly loud, but the familiar 'smack' was enough to get people to look their way. Colette, ignorant of the curious glances, had her brows furrowed as she demanded, "Eddie smile!"

Though he had sworn not to give in to her (which wasn't working out anyway), the corner of his lips turned up slightly at her request.

The little girl was more than placated by the minimal effort and grinned, applauding herself for a job well done.

Bella chuckled and shook her head at the scene. He was surprising her just as much. "I'll make it up to you then, ice-cream's on me _Eddie_."

With Colette retreated and sitting across from him once more, legs swinging as she looked around in wonderment, Edward watched Bella leave for the double doors of the kitchen. The apron tied around her waist framing the heart shaped outline of her ass while the confident step in her movements seemed to emphasize its shape. The man behind the counter, coughed aloud, eyeing him.

.

The air felt warmer in the kitchen, the ovens along the wall filed with products baking to a heavenly golden brown. Removing a cake from one of them, Alice mused, "Hmm, I imagined him taller, maybe it was the suit? Yes." She nodded to herself, "Definitely the suit…those grey pants, the dress shirt, the skinny navy tie, he's got style in spades. But wow, he really does look good in a suit." She paused again. "Actually, come to think of it, I think every guy looks good in a suit."

"Thank you."

"Unless you're wearing the funeral suit I choose for you, you don't count," she informed her companion.

"Why the hell not?"

"You're my not-gay younger brother, that's why. You, automatically, don't have a gender. It's not personal."

"Aren't you supposed to like shirtless guys more anyway?"

"What girl doesn't love a guy in a suit? Even if he's as stuffy as Mr. Tuesday," she stopped half way to decorating the cake as she continued in an afterthought directed at Bella, "It's a miracle how you managed to get him to relax for some bumping-bumping."

"Alcohol was involved," the woman reminded. "He's a lawyer though, so I'm not surprised he needed it."

"Oh! That's right, just for that he just got bumped to an eight."

"Because he's a lawyer," Jake repeated, brow raised skeptically.

"It's a good job," Alice defended, "and I mean, as long as he's employed he goes up a point." Looking thoughtful again, she murmured, "Maybe another point for looking good in the suit and tie. Oh wait, minus one for the kid!"

"Or add another because he's taking her to get ice-cream?"

"Minus it, he spent the night with Bella, he could be married!"

"Or, he could be divorced, add it."

"You know what, my last answer, times by how good he looks divided by the fact there's a kid out there whose…four, maybe?" She stopped working again and was now looking up at the ceiling with her brows knitted together in concentration.

"Gah," Bella interrupted in the midst of preparing an order, "too much math. Can't we just leave it at seven or eight and move on with life?"

"Sure, so long as he's ranked lower than me." Looking expectedly at the brunette for agreement, Jake groaned at the shrug of response and unforgiving silence that filled the room. "Seriously, one time I ask for an ego boast."

Rolling her eyes, she gave him a light punch on the shoulder as he walked by. "Oh like you need one, I swear those salesgirls for Abercrombie only come here to sample you."

"It's such a waste of good cake though," Alice sighed in disappointment, "and I should know, I made it!"

Sagely, Jake stated, "Sacrifices have to be made."

"Speaking of, those fourteen year olds from that high school just walked in," Bella declared to Alice's laughter as the young man groaned.

"For the last time, they're seventeen."

"So not that huge of an age-gap?" Alice asked innocently.

It was his turn to roll his eyes before he asked his boss, "What's the order?"

"The usual, two "I need a vacation" banana splits."

"I can take it then."

"Good because they'd be disappointed if I did," Bella said with a wink. "Knock 'em dead, and don't just get phone numbers this time!"

.

It took several minutes and several puddles of drool (because after awhile it wasn't just Colette salivating from all the smells) later that a young woman with oriental features and a nametag that read, "Alice" appeared, sliding a plate with a delicate looking ice-cream tartlet (in an edible bowl made from ice-cream cones) sitting innocently atop it. It was the size of a regular plate with the dessert sitting like a lone island with its wafer tree and peppermint green leaves sticking out in all directions while directly beneath it, swirling tantalizingly was a warm toffee sauce – steaming slightly above the frozen goodness of the triple layer vanilla ice-cream scoop.

It looked filling, but it wouldn't be enough for Colette. Surprisingly, it wasn't for her.

"Bella says it would be rude to just watch your goddaughter eat," the woman said with a drawl, placing spoons with a "ST" engraved, onto the table, wrapped neatly in a white serviette.

"Me?" Colette asked, pointing to herself, but staring down the plate, ready to purge it and destroy the little island.

"No dear, that's yours." Gesturing with a nod, Bella came through the double doors of the kitchen holding up a tray of all things.

With her eyes growing larger by the second as Bella approached, Colette looked like she wasn't breathing anymore. When the tray was finally slipped across the table, a volcano sat between them.

It was an impressive piece of work. It looked like red velvet coated with molten chocolate, rocks made from brown M&Ms and seashells made of frosting sat on the beach made from caramel and cream mixed together before the volcano's piece of land tapered off the edge. "I call it, the Mount Saint Chocolate."

"That's diabetes on a plate," he said in disbelief.

Glancing between him and the three year old, Bella shrugged. "She looks willing to take it on."

"She's three; she doesn't know what that is!"

"But she ordered it."

"She can't have it," he declared, "she's better off with mine." Trying to push the tray aside, he picked up his island and offered it up for the little girl's inspection. "Here Colette, ice-cream."

For a moment, still in shock, the girl looked at it and then back at Mount Saint Chocolate before whispering reverently, "Ice-cream."

"Colette, Colette, this is ice-cream, see, its vanilla," he tried to coax, even going so far as dipping the spoon in and trying to feed it to her.

Again she didn't react, and the three adults around her table shared looks varying from worry to amusement to anticipation, the last emotion coming from the woman named Alice. For some reason, she seemed to read his stare and whispered, "The first time is always the most memorable."

When Colette's brain finally reconnected, she looked up at her godfather with withdrawn eyes and whispered, "Mine."

It was the beginning and end of everything.

.

It took almost two hours for her to eat the concoction. The three year old was determined and despite the sugar rush that had taken over, all she did was eat more until almost an hour later, she was sleeping beside the half finished, half destroyed volcano.

Arriving to clear away his long finished "Leave me alone" ice-cream island, and two mugs of hot chocolate with "Munchies" buttermilk cookies as well as the remains of the Mount Saint Tooth Decay, Bella chuckled at the sleeping girl. "Gotta give her some credit, she ate like a champ."

"I don't know whether to thank you or direct her dentist bill to you," Edward stated slightly above a whisper despite the fact that "Sweet Treats" was getting more and more popular as the day went by.

"I prefer the first, compliments are free for everyone." About to slide the tray with the remains of the volcano, Colette woke up for split second just to move from beside the tray to on top of the tray, covering her face and shirt with her failure to finish eating it, as though she could sense the ice-cream's slowly receding presence.

Even though the tray's remaining food was melting into her clothes and skin, she slept on; Edward wished he could do that.

"Shit." The amount of panic was immediate, his chair had fallen over and he was her side in an instant before he removed the tray and lifted her off her seat, ruining his fancy dress shirt and pants.

When his eyes met Bella's, she was gawking at him. "You swore."

"I do that, yes," he said, "where's the bathroom?"

"Over there, but I don't think -"

Bella didn't know why Alice would need him to be taller, in less than five strides he was at the bathroom – the female one, and the woman reapplying her lipstick beside a teenager washing her hands weren't happy for the male intrusion as their screams rang out.

"I'm sorry-I'm sorry!"

She almost laughed when he had to duck to avoid getting hit in the face with a roll of toilet paper. The only reason she didn't was because it hit her.

With a belt of the bathroom essential hanging over his shoulder and onto the floor, and a sleeping child covered in ice-cream in his arms (she also happened to be drooling marvelously on him too), he looked at her helplessly.

There was a chance Eddie/Mr. Tuesday happened to pull a good "I'm completely useless and need help with life" look which she liked to think she was good at denying to the highest level of hell, but it didn't seem to be true when she gently ushered him upstairs to the apartment she lived in.

Behind the counter, Jake shouted at Sam, "That's twenty bucks, stuffy dude's got game!" wherein Sam retaliated with, "Shut up, everybody's got more game than you."

**A/n:** I'm too mean to Jake, but really I think he's that friend everyone always makes fun of but loves anyway.

Thanks to **Tarbecca **for recommending this story in the Fic Drive at **A Different Forest**, and thank you to everyone whose left me a line or two to get me through writing the chapter :)

Liked it, hated it, leave me a review for it anyway?


	6. Chapter 6: Hazelnut

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Flavor of the Month

Chapter six: Hazelnut

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The three apartments on the second floor of the shop was the reason Bella had decided on the place. Though when she arrived in Seattle five years ago, Sweet Treats was only a pipedream (and a board on Pinterest) that filled her days between the trudge of temp jobs and college courses. Back then, the floor below was a vintage book shop – first editions, brown-yellow pages, words in a language that probably didn't exist anymore and the faint smell of musk and decay. The best kind in her opinion.

Her mom and step-dad suggested Seattle, they went through the city every now and again and it was a good place to live, they bemusedly commented. While her dad offered to pay for a more settled life for her: six months' rent, old furniture, whatever she needed.

But Mr. Darcy, the man who owned the bookshop was the reason Bella went through with the move when she was still a wandering soul at heart. And not just because he shared the last name of one of her favorite literary characters.

They'd met by accident and the man was just as gruff and awkward as the leading man in Pride and Prejudice, but he took pity on her after about an hour of hearing her crying and griping about the unfairness of life (it wasn't her finest moment okay?) and suddenly the opportunity to put roots down became a reality. It took a year for her life to start feeling like it though.

And it was because of Mr. Darcy.

Between trying to figure out what she wanted to do with her life, she worked part time at the bookshop downstairs and it was there that she started to get to know people.

Sam came with the place, Jake too.

And Alice was a later edition when Mr. Darcy's past life was starting to catch up to him (but that's another story for another day).

Eventually though, Mr. Darcy closed the shop down and she, Jake and Sam were on the verge of losing their home to some realtors who wanted to turn the whole block of buildings into a high end shopping center; name brand boutiques and fifty dollar coffee stands. Thankfully "that grouchy old man" didn't leave them high and dry and had ended up putting it in their name (well Sam's since he was the oldest and the one Mr. Darcy knew the longest – even though she was his favorite cough).

With an apartment that had virtually no rent and her college fees being handled, money was simply being stockpiled for food and other disposable necessities. Living on the road had taught her to live from a suitcase so actually having things beyond the essentials took a while to process and it was thanks to all that saving that she had the resources to make her Pinterest dream a reality.

When that dream took off (and paid off), the only thing left to do in her pin-driven-madness was redecorate the entire apartment.

However, though she could bake the frosting out of anyone, decorating a house was a lot harder than the internet made it seem.

Thankfully Alice showed up to stay and she wasn't taking her wannabe interior designer tendencies quietly. If she had, Bella would've been embarrassed to take anyone up there. Especially her one-night stand who was there for anything less than a one-night stand.

"Just…brace yourself," she cautioned as she began to turn the key before pushing it open (it tended to stick and even though she's lived in the apartment for five years she still hadn't gotten it fixed).

"I would, but I have a child in my arms."

"Yeah, wouldn't want the ice-cream to get anywhere else on your fancy suit." Ushering them in, she shut the door behind them before throwing her keys in the little basket beside the door.

Mysterious Mr. Tuesday stood somewhat awkwardly in the middle of the entrance, the little girl with the ice-cream bib cradled in his arms completely asleep.

"Follow me."

There were only two bathrooms in the apartment, and since the two bedrooms were both en-suite it was just a matter of picking whose.

Alice would have a heart attack, but she was also collecting bets downstairs on whether or not Bella was getting laid at this very moment. Alice's room it was.

Opening the door to her roommate's room, he paused.

"What happened to "Brace yourself"?"

"I didn't realize it meant for the entire visit to your place," he answered slowly; taking a cautious step over a pile of clothes (she hoped they were clean for his sake…).

"It's not a visit," she said with a roll of her eyes, "it's just me trying to help a guy out. I doubt you'd want to bring a little girl into the men's bathroom to get her shirt cleaned right?"

"People would think I kidnapped her, or I'm submitting her to some kind of sexual harassment even though I would never do such a thing."

"After hearing her crying the entire time outside, I wouldn't put it past people to think it anyway." When he remained hesitant, she pulled him by his arm. "Come on, we don't have all day. Well, maybe you do, but I'm trying to run a business down there so -"

"You own the place?"

She snorted. "Don't sound so surprised." Pulling him gently towards the bathroom, she said, "This is the bathroom; Alice usually keeps it pretty clean -"

He glanced up then, a disdainful expression on his face at the underwear hanging on the ceiling fan. "I wouldn't say that considering the state of her bedroom."

"Yeah well she still isn't completely used to being without maids yet so give her a break, and stop interrupting me. I swear you were more polite last time we met."

"I walked in on you in the bathroom," he reminded.

"Okay fine, you've got decidedly worse since we met."

"Technically I'm just interrupting you."

"Technically I still find it annoying."

Alice's bathroom was far cleaner than her actual room (lord knows why), so finding a clean cloth and a bar of soap was easy, but having to bathe a sleeping child was not.

"You'll wake her," he declared in a matter of fact tone as he held his goddaughter in a sitting position while she tried to remove the girl's shirt.

"We can't leave her dirty, she'll get sick!"

"Maybe we can wrap her in a towel?"

"And how is that going to make her feel better?" Bella threw him a triumphed look when she managed to get the dirty garment off before wetting the cloth and squeezing it to get the excess water out.

"What about her shirt?"

"I'll wash off any ice-cream and throw it in the drier; it'll probably be clean in half an hour."

"We couldn't impose on you for that long." Though whether it was because they probably wouldn't know what to do for half an hour or because he was just overly polite, Bella didn't know and shrugged in reply.

"I can lend you something for her to wear, though I'm not sure how her mom's going to feel about that…"

He grimaced, and as Bella finished wiping off any ice-cream that may have gotten under Colette's shirt and turned to the sink to scrub the garment itself, he grabbed a nearby towel to cover the little girl in to keep her warm.

"Luckily it doesn't look like it'll stain," Bella said, the shirt in a tiny ball in her hand as he followed her out of Alice's room. "Good thing she didn't have an affinity for the Red Wedding Wine Cake."

"There's such a thing?"

She copied his expression. "I feel emotionally connected to my TV shows."

When they entered the living room, he could see just how much. Though the apartment was decorated in a mixture of contemporary and urban, there was TV show posters in frames and small model statues of various TV show and movie icons. "Is that the Tardis?"

She snickered. "Why am I not surprised you know that?"

"Doesn't everyone?"

"Alice thought it was just to complement the style of the living room; that blue London phonebooths were a thing." Her snicker turned into a snort. "She thought she fixed my terrible interior decorating skills." Flicking her fingers towards the sofa as she walked through a single arch into what he assumed was the kitchen. "Make yourself at home; I'll put this in the drier. Do you want anything to eat or drink?"

He mumbled out something in reply as he sat, Colette still cradled against his chest. Bella seemed content to bustle around the kitchen so he simply sat, brushing aside the blonde curls on the little girl's forehead; her expression peaceful as her mouth drooped and some drool trailed down her cheek.

Sighing, he rubbed his chin. His jaw hurting from the sudden tension of the trouble he had inadvertently let Colette get into. Oh well, at least she was asleep.

In his back pocket, his phone buzzed impatiently.

Had it been buzzing the entire time?

"Yes?"

"Ed! Ed, where the hell have you been?"

"Out," he shifted against the sofa and cleared his throat. "Something wrong Rosalie?"

"Yes something's wrong! Edward you have to get Colette," the blonde demanded, her tone tinged in petulant anger. He could practically picture her cheeks puffing up and mouth twisting in an unhappy knot. The image was exactly why he warned Emmett of Colette's potential brattiness, one Rosalie Hale was enough.

"Why?"

"Why? Why?"

"Yes, why are you repeating what I'm saying? And twice for that matter?"

Her frustrated sigh came and he knew it was her attempt to calm down before she inhaled sharply and answered, "Because Emmett's being an idiot and refuses to pick her up! Do you know how much ammo he's giving Tanya for the divorce? He could lose Colette before the proceedings even start!"

"That wouldn't be possible unless Tanya or someone of their joint employ claims to have witnessed acts of abuse towards her, though neglect can be just as damaging. However, I've already tried to speak to him about it."

"And he ignored you, of course." There was a quiet slap sound as she probably raised her arms and dropped them at her sides, frustration mounting. "Where are you, you have to get Colette, for Emmett's sake."

"Why is it important to you?"

"What?"

Edward shrugged, though she couldn't possibly see it. "Emmett obviously doesn't want anything to do with Colette. What would either of us accomplish by kidnapping her in his name? And why does it matter to you whether or not he loses Colette?"

"It's his d-daughter," Rosalie stuttered before continuing enraged, "you want him to lose Colette is that it?"

"As her godfather I only want what's best for her."

"And Tanya is?"

"She is her mother," he reminded calmly, gently dropping and raising his knees to rock Colette back to sleep as her eyes began to flutter.

"And Emmett's her father!"

"He isn't acting like it."

Her response was to stutter again, an uncharacteristic thing for someone as naturally self confident as she was. Edward knew what that meant though. "It doesn't matter, Colette's with me anyway."

"What?"

"Tanya and Emmett are the same. They're not bad for Colette, but not good for her either."

"Why did you take her then?" The rise was back and his reply was as noncommittal as she always found it, "I'm her godfather."

Baffled silence followed, and it was yet another unusual thing for her. His smug look couldn't be seen so he openly displayed it to the notice of Bella as she put two glasses of water on the center table before sitting down on his other side.

"Edward…Edward, you're such a pain in the ass!" It was her way of acknowledging she was wrong.

He chuckled. "Tell me how Emmett's doing after your next pity visit."

"_Sympathy_ visit," she corrected and without saying good bye, they both hung up.

"That your girlfriend?" Bella mocked teasingly and he remembered the variation of the jab from their morning after a few weeks ago, and shook his head.

"Rosalie's my lesbian younger sister."

"Except she's neither?"

"Yes."

"I see," she said, nodding in understanding. "I just brought water; I don't know whether you're up for whatever martini-cocktail mixture Alice made."

"I'm not." Greedily he took the glass, only mildly surprised at how thirsty he had gotten.

"So her parents are getting divorced huh?"

After draining his glass, he asked, "How do you figure that?"

"I'm good at reading between the lines."

Staring at her for a few seconds was enough to get her to crack as she answered, "Fine, I was eavesdropping. But I can't help it, this," she gestured to Colette wearing a towel and him with a mixture of drool and ice-cream on the shoulder the three year old was lying against, "doesn't happen. This is just…weird. You're just…weird!"

"I could say the same about you, you know."

"Yeah well I'm weird by default. You on the other hand," Bella shook her head, "I thought you'd be pretty cookie-cutter you know? Fitting the mold to a fault, being the achiever, all that jazz."

He didn't reply, only looked down on Colette sleeping on his lap and they both lapsed into a comfortable silence.

Eventually, though, she admitted, "My parents got divorced."

He looked up and was surprised to see a smile. "They love each other and they love me, but they reached a point in their lives that they didn't want the same things anymore and neither of them could force the other to reform to what the other person needed. I hope whatever reasons her parents are doing it are the right ones, otherwise she's lucky to have someone like you looking out for her."

Bella looked up at him with a different smile then; hopeful, sweet and honest.

And he was utterly confused.

**A/n: **UPDATES, updates all around! The M stuff will come in eventually, but I want to build towards it. If you're interested in how those will probably go, I suggest checking out Inappropriate as it's basically me working on my lemon-lime writing skills (it's for a completely different fandom, but they're PWP anyway).

Thanks for reading, reviews are always appreciated.


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